


Unrealized

by Cobrilee



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Buffy the Vampire Slayer References, Canon Compliant, M/M, Set during 3A-ish, Stiles gets kissed a lot, minor dubcon, spell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 07:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8481415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cobrilee/pseuds/Cobrilee
Summary: You know how they always say, "Be careful of what you wish for?" Yeah, in Beacon Hills you need to be a lot more careful than most.Or, that time when half of Stiles' friends start kissing him, and really, what the actual fuck?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eeyore9990](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/gifts).



> See end notes for explanation of the slight dubcon/underage tags if you think it might be triggering. 
> 
> This was written for eeyore9990's fic prompt on Tumblr: I WILL TAKE EITHER STETER OR STEREK FIRST KISS YES OR STYDIA. OR STALLISON. FUCK ME, ANYONE KISSING STILES OKAY. okay
> 
> Also, this was supposed to be under 1k. Seriously. This is me writing something "short", apparently.

He knows something’s up when Danny kisses him, because he's self-aware, okay?

“Hey, Danny Boy, I have a very legitimate, totally-not-illegal use for those magical fingers of your-mpff.” He’s entirely unprepared for the devastating smile Danny levels at him before sliding into his space, dropping a hand to one hip and his lips to Stiles’, which are gaping like a fish. It doesn’t take Stiles long to decide that he much prefers to go with the flow rather than try to figure out what the fuck, because seriously,  _ what the fuck?  _

When Danny pulls back the smile is still there, albeit with more of a self-satisfied bent to it. “I probably have a better use for my fingers than the one you have in mind,” he murmurs with a wink, and Stiles figures now is probably a good time to try to figure out what the fuck.

“You know what, I remembered I need to meet my dad at the station,” Stiles says, a touch of apology in his tone to lend credence to the lie. He finger-guns Danny and winks back, though he knows his own is probably more maniacal than suave. “Hold that thought, okay?”

He fast-walks away from Danny, backward so he can keep his suspicious eyes on him, and as soon as Danny’s out of sight, he’s fumbling for his phone and dialing. “Scotty, what the fuck?”

\-----

He figures it’s a spell when Lydia gives him her sweetest, most, “you adorably clueless idiot, you’re dumb, but I think I’ll keep you anyway” smile, and leans in to press her lips softly against his. His brain goes offline for about thirty seconds because holy shit, it’s Lydia, and this is the best thing ever, but then he realizes she would also never do this on her own.

“Lydia, stop.” He grabs her by the shoulders and dips his head to glare sternly into her innocent gaze. “This isn’t really you.”

“I beg to differ,” she counters archly, one smooth brow lifting in mild irritation, and yes, there she is. “It’s entirely me. Why wouldn’t I want to kiss you?”

“Uh, because you never have, in the entirety of ever?” he points out, wincing slightly because  _ ow _ , the truth hurts more when it’s coming from his own mouth. “We’ve known each other for eight years and whenever you’ve bothered to look at me, it’s been with the slight revulsion of someone who’s just stepped on a bug.”

She sighs, rolling her eyes. “Yes, but that was back before I knew you.” Her gaze softens. “I know you now. You’re someone worth kissing.”

Yeah, nope. Totally a spell.

\-----

He  _ knows _ that he pissed Someone off royally, someone with Power, and that they hate him with a burning passion. He has to spit for, like, a week when Peter kisses him. 

“Fucking hell, Peter!” he yells, glaring, and Peter smirks unapologetically. “In what universe would that ever  _ possibly _ be okay?”

“Come on, Stiles, you can’t tell me you don’t play for the other team,” Peter says slyly, voice creepy-crawling under Stiles’ skin, as per usual. “I can smell it coming off of you.”

“First, that’s horrifying, and second, just because I might like to switch-hit does  _ not _ mean I’m interested in kissing a corpse,” Stiles hisses.

Peter grins. “So if I hadn’t died once already…?”

“OH MY GOD THAT IS SO NOT THE POINT!”

\-----

He refuses to admit that he might be okay with this whole thing when it’s Isaac’s turn. He also refuses to acknowledge that Isaac’s is the one he would have been okay with continuing. 

“Let me guess, you just find me irresistible suddenly,” he snarks, and Isaac smirks at him.

“You’re a pain in my ass, Stilinski,” he counters. “But you’re hot. Kissing you isn’t really a hardship.”

“Oh, high praise,” he bitches under his breath, knowing that Isaac will hear it and finding a sense of comfort in the fact that nothing’s really changed about their normal routine-except, y’know, lips locking a lot more than usual.

“Fuck you, you know you like it. I don’t have to write sonnets to your lips or anything.”

He grins. “They’d be shitty anyway. I’ve read your English assignments, remember?”

\-----

He decides that the goal is ultimately for him to die a horribly painful death when he sees Allison coming toward him, a shy but determined smile on her face. “Oh God. No. No, no, no, Ally, no! Not you, too!”

She pauses as she leans in, lips hovering a millimeter from his own, and he breathes a sigh of relief when she pulls back and cocks a quizzical eyebrow at him. “Is there something wrong with the idea of me kissing you, Stiles?”   


“YES!” he explodes, but when her face falls, he backpedals like he’s in the Tour de France. Well, going backward. “I mean, no! But yes?” He runs a nervous hand through his hair. “You realize Scott is literally my best friend, right? And you haven’t been broken up all that long? It would break his heart if you kissed me, even if it wasn’t real.”

She winks, and man, what is up with all the people in his life being sexy and seductive as fuck, with their intellects and personalities and looks and then with the winking on top of it all? “Trust me, Stiles, if I kissed you, you’d know it was real.”

He doesn’t think she’s wrong.

\-----

In the end, it’s Derek who figures it out. Derek, who never once tried to kiss him. Stiles pretends like that doesn’t break his heart.

“Stiles, do you remember saying anything to a witch recently?” he asks, running a finger down the page he’s reading as his brows draw together in irritation.

“Gee, Derek, now that you mention it... Seriously, how the fuck am I supposed to know?” he grumbles sarcastically. “It’s not like anyone has walked up to me and said, ‘Hey, I’m your friendly neighborhood Sabrina, have anything you need conjured?’ in, well, ever.”

Derek glares in exasperation, and Stiles is glad to know that not everything in his life has gotten out of whack. “Let me rephrase this, and please try to answer in a way that focuses on helping us figure this out, rather than trying to win prizes for your smart-assery.”

“I can’t believe you just used the word smart-assery,” he snorts, and Derek’s glare goes from annoyed to Death Threat. “Okay, okay. Rephrase away.”

“Have you said anything lately to someone you don’t know? Or who you don’t know well?” Stiles opens his mouth to answer, and Derek sighs. “Have you said anything  _ specifically pertaining to kisses or romantic attraction _ ?”

He still wants to retort something witty, if for no other reason than to see all the other wolves watch in fascination as Derek's blood pressure goes through the roof, when a memory niggles in the back of his brain. “Um, maybe?” Death Threat is still the overwhelming expression, so he waves his arms in some well-deserved exasperation of his own. “Look, there was this girl, and she was sitting there alone while her friends were making out, and she looked really sad, so I tried to be nice. I sat down next to her and started talking, and eventually she said that it sucked being alone all the time. I  _ mayyyyy _ have responded with something like, I just wished that I knew if someone was even actually interested in me. That I could understand people being afraid to say something, but it would just be nice to know that someone wanted me.”

Derek’s index finger and thumb are now rubbing at his fearsome eyebrows, his eyes pinched shut, and Stiles feels chastened without a word, and without even thinking he’d done anything wrong, really. “It didn’t occur to you that maybe you shouldn’t be saying things like ‘I wish’ in a town like Beacon Hills, to a  _ complete and utter stranger _ ?” he asks eventually, sarcasm and weariness heavy in his voice, and Stiles glares.

“How the fuck was I supposed to know I was in ‘The Wish’?” he snaps back. “It’s not like Anyanka showed up with her scary veiny face to make me realize I’d kinda fucked up.”

Derek stares at him and Stiles is tempted to throw his arms in the air in exasperation again. Seriously, for a born werewolf, Derek’s quality-supernatural-TV education is severely lacking. “We need to fix this.”

“I don’t recall seeing an amulet around her neck that I could stomp on and smash,” he retorts grumpily, and again with the confusion, and ugh. “When we figure this out, I’m making you marathon Buffy and Angel both.”

“Something to look forward to,” he replies dryly, and Stiles isn’t sure if that’s 100% sarcasm.

\-----

Fixing the problem is pretty simple, actually. Stiles finds the girl a week later and she brightens when she sees him. “Meet any interesting people lately?” she asks, eyes twinkling, and Stiles sinks into the seat next to her with a rueful shake of his head. 

“I saw a new side to a lot of people I already knew,” he corrects, voice gentle, and she seems to get where he’s going with it. “It’s not really a good thing when half the people you know start kissing you and you have no idea what the hell is going on.”

“I thought I was helping,” she says guiltily, and Stiles understands that, so he doesn’t yell at her like he’s thought of many, many times over the last week. 

“You did,” he says, because it’s true. She taught him that he wasn’t invisible, that his friends didn’t all see him as the tagalong who had no business being there. Or that if he was, he was at least wanted. “But now that I know, I’d like it to stop, please.”

“Okay,” she agrees, and with a few quietly-uttered words, it’s over. Or at least he presumes it is, and that she wasn’t just reminding herself of her grocery list. She frowns. “I should really have an amulet. Smashing it would have been a lot more dramatic and satisfying.”

“Yes!” he says with emphasis. Finally, somebody  _ gets _ it.

\-----

“It’s over,” he decrees to Derek later, before flopping down on the couch in triumph. Derek glances at him in bored acknowledgment. “I found her, she removed the spell, no more kisses for Stiles.”

He doesn’t mean for the words to trail off as wistfully as they do, but of course Derek picks up on it. “You know it’s not the end of your romantic hopes and dreams, right?”

Stiles rolls his eyes in a way that he hopes covers his fears that that’s exactly what has just happened. “Yeah, because people were dying to face-plant against mine before they were under a spell that made them.”

“They were,” Derek counters matter-of-factly, and Stiles stares at him suspiciously.

“I didn’t see  _ you _ lining up to lock lips,” he mutters acrimoniously, and Derek doesn’t say anything, and the silence stretches so long that Stiles slaps his palms on his thighs and stands. “Well, as lovely as this awkward moment of humiliation is, I’m going to-.”

“Stiles, sit your ass back down and shut up.” He does, because who the hell ever says no to Derek Hale? Derek stands and crosses the room to grab a book from a pile on his bookshelf. Stiles recognizes it as the one he was holding when he asked Stiles if he’d talked to any witches lately. Without a word, he returns and hands the book to Stiles, sinking back down beside him and watching the splay of his fingers over his thighs.

Still staring at Derek’s hunched form, Stiles flips the book open to the dog-eared page that Derek apparently wants him to find. His eyes skim the page and then he reads aloud. “This spell shall, when invoked, bring to light any unrealized feelings toward the object of the spell.” He snaps the book shut. “Great, Derek, that was very clear and told me  _ absolutely nothing that I didn’t already know. _ ”

“ _ Unrealized _ , you fucking idiot,” he mumbles into the hands that are now covering his face, his elbows propped on his knees. “The whole point of the spell is that it triggered action from people who feel something for you, but hadn’t yet figured it out or put a name to it.”

“Yay for me, now half of my friends are either avoiding me or doing a pretty impressive imitation of your death glare to keep me from mentioning it,” Stiles scoffs, still feeling the sting of Lydia’s avoidance, Allison’s discomfort, Isaac’s snarling, and Peter’s lecherous gazes. Once they’d learned it was a spell they’d all reacted differently, but with the exception of Peter, the overwhelming message was  _ stay away _ . Danny had gotten back with Ethan a day later, so he was cool with Stiles, but no more friendly than they’d ever been.

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” Derek grits out, and Stiles frowns, finally understanding that Derek’s trying to make a point and he’s not getting it. He puzzles it out in his brain for a moment before understanding dawns. When he meets Derek’s eyes again, Derek’s wearing a look of resignation, which, yeah,  _ really _ not flattering.

“How long ago?” he asks quietly.

Derek shrugs in discomfort before glancing away. “The pool.”

Stiles blinks, stunned. “The pool? The pool was fucking  _ six months _ ago, you couldn’t have said something to me before now?”

“You've just barely turned seventeen,” Derek snaps back, which, okay, fair, but…

“You honestly think I care about that?” he cries, fingers tunneling through the hair that is now long enough to be gripped by strong fists, not that he’s fantasized about that a lot in the  _ last six fucking months _ . 

Derek glares at him in helpless frustration. “You might not, but the law does. Which directly correlates to your father, the  _ sheriff _ , caring. A lot. I’d rather not get arrested for a legitimate reason.”

A sly grin suddenly spreads across his face, quickly followed by the mistrustful look that blooms on Derek’s. “Guess it’s a good thing I have a lot of practice hiding things from him.”

He’s surprised when Derek balks, glowering. “No. I refuse to do anything that requires hiding.”

“So you don’t plan to do anything about this for almost a year?” he asks, sagging in disappointment, and Derek’s quiet. This time he allows the silence, staring at his hands, sorting through the mixed emotions cartwheeling through him at the moment. There’s joy and disbelief that Derek Hale, the guy he’s been steadily falling harder and faster for, feels at least somewhat the same way. There’s an ache that might possibly be heartbreak at the realization that it doesn’t matter how they feel about each other, Derek’s refusing to act on it. There’s hope that it might not be all that long before he will. 

Before he’s settled on one emotion to focus on, he feels Derek shift beside him. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t know what they can possibly say, and then Derek’s hand is gently cupping his jaw and he swears he won’t cry when Derek gives him that tender, fond look before breaking his heart, he won’t, he  _ won’t. _

And then he’s tipping Stiles’ chin up, one thumb stroking his cheek, and when Stiles meets his eyes, Derek lets out a soft, capitulating sigh, and then his mouth is on Stiles’, and Stiles can’t think, he can only feel.

His hands curl over Derek’s shoulders, clutching at them like they’re the only thing keeping him from defying gravity and flying off into the atmosphere. Derek’s lips are whispering over his, pressing forward before withdrawing, his teeth grazing Stiles’ skin before pulling his bottom lip between them, and Stiles’ head is swimming drunkenly. Stiles opens his mouth, silently encouraging Derek to take the kiss further, to go deeper, and Derek does. He presses into Stiles, his chest pushing Stiles back into the couch, and his free hand tangles in Stiles’ hair, and fucking finally, one of his fantasies has been realized.

Stiles makes broken whimpering noises under the onslaught of Derek’s heated kisses, nipping and deep and playful and growing increasingly urgent. His chest is getting tight, breathing fracturing, and he has to break away to inhale before stars explode behind his eyes. 

“I never said I wasn’t going to do anything about it,” Derek murmurs, and Stiles has to blink away the haze of the past few minutes to remember the question he’d posed. “I was waiting for you to be ready for me.”

“Pretty sure I already am,” he points out, voice hoarse, and Derek studies him.

“Are you ready to do this my way? My rules?”

Stiles smirks a little teasingly. “You want to be the boss? You like the idea of telling me what to do?”

Derek snorts and rolls his eyes, but Stiles is almost certain it’s with affection. “No sex. Not until you’re eighteen.”

“Oh, come  _ on _ ,” he whines, and Derek glares at him. “You expect me to wait a whole year to get all up on that?” he asks, gesturing at Derek, because, well,  _ Derek _ .

“We do this right,” Derek says simply, “or we don’t do it at all.”

He chews on his lip for a moment, pretending to weigh it out, as if it’s a choice at all. “Yeah, but there’s lots of things we can do without actually having sex, right?”

Derek’s eyes sparkle wickedly. “You have no idea.”

Stiles’ blood rushes south. “Teach me everything you know, oh wise Yoda.”

Derek makes a face. “First things first. No Star Wars references.”

“I’m rethinking this already.”

“Oh shut up and get over here.”

“I told you. Bossy.”

“Just kiss me already.”

And there’s something Stiles can do without arguing even a little.

**Author's Note:**

> Underage warning: Stiles and Derek kiss and begin a relationship despite Stiles being barely seventeen.
> 
> Slight dubcon tag: A witch casts a spell that makes people start kissing Stiles, but all of the people who kiss him have some kind of feeling for him they just haven't put into words yet, so it's not really them kissing someone they don't/wouldn't want to kiss.
> 
> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/cobrilee)!


End file.
